


A Collection of Mcsm Oneshots

by Nyanshadowforce



Category: MCSM, Minecraft (Video Game), Minecraft: Story Mode - Fandom
Genre: Multi, My old works, there will be many interesting situations here
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-07
Updated: 2018-03-17
Packaged: 2019-01-10 00:09:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 13,882
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12287109
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nyanshadowforce/pseuds/Nyanshadowforce
Summary: A small archive of all of the mcsm oneshots I've written. Most of these are very old and do not reflect my current writing skill or common tones, but are still bits that I worked hard on in the past. These will include AUs and the like but will be labeled accordingly.





	1. Thank you for Knocking

**Author's Note:**

> Jesse learns, the hard way, that her attempt to mendo an old and broken relationship has worked well. Perhaps too well. 
> 
> (Non-AU)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jesse learns, the hard way, that her attempt to mend an old and broken relationship has worked well. Perhaps too well.
> 
> (Non-AU)

Jesse slunk down the hall, a plate of cookies in hand, and the too-long silk of her pajamas dragging behind her heels.

The stone brick below her bare feet was cold; although it was that of her home, Jesse found herself somewhat reminded of the bitter temperatures of caves and tunnels. Moreover, the particular hall did happen to be one of the more unused areas of the temple. Cobwebs gathered over parts of the floor and ceiling, prompting more for her temple to cave analogy, but she brushed it off as there were more important things to be thought about. 

Specifically, those things being a particular grumpy alchemist and a particular coward architect.

Along with working outside to help repair the damages done by the storm, she'd also been working inside to rebuild their, for the most part, destroyed friendship. 

(Betrayal, lies, and prolonged seperation had a tendancy to destroy any positive associations.) They'd made quite good progress over the last few weeks, to Jesse's satisfaction. They were by no means the best of friends, but it was much better now given the circumstances. Glares filled with fury as well as the loud and prolonged arguments had dissappeared. Most interactions were calm, if not friendly. They seemed to now be acquaintances at the least. 

It was definite that they'd made up in some way, but Jesse wasn't done yet. They had so much more to build upon, to rekindle! 

She'd see to it, Jesse thought, and bringing them some surprise snacks while they were visiting would be a delightful surprise for the both of them. She didn't know about Soren, but at least it would be a surefire way to get Ivor happy; he was a fan of desserts, safe to say. It would definitely lighten the experience. Who wouldn't want to speak with an old friend and nibble on warm treats while they were at it?

Jesse, quiet and curious as an ocelot, pressed her ear to the door. She didn't often eavesdrop, but she'd hate to interrupt an important conversation. That made some eavesdropping acceptable, right? 

Silence. 

Jesse could have sworn they were in there- she'd seen them go in before sneaking off to make the treats in which she held. Maybe their talk was short today, and they'd gone out when she was cooking? Maybe they were in there, but just writing notes of their respective studies together? Even then, a quiet like this was surprising. Jesse doubted her own speculation. Still, she turned the knob, and creaked open the door to check. 

She was wrong. 

They were definitely there. 

Her stomach dropped at the sight of them. The mixture of emotion that came about was near indecipherable; Shock, fear, denial, but with hints of pride and then confusion. The rest of the rush came too fast to take note of and her mind went a blank gray. 

Ivor's hair framed his face, partly thanks to Soren's hand that had settled on the back of his head, gripping some locks and letting others fall forward. With their lips locked, the two pulled eachother as close as vines held themselves to unattended walls

Jesse didn't know how long she watched. Time seemed to slow and distort, the scene before her unfolding unparalleled to time. 

And as time when unnoticed, so did certain feelings. The plate slipped from Jesse's shaking fingers, shattering onto the ground. The noise snapped everyone into reality, making the clock tick again. Even then Jesse forgot to breathe. For a moment, she thought it wouldn't matter, as one or another pair of hands would surely be wrapped around her throat in the next few moments. 

Their kiss, so precious and delicate, had been torn in two. Ivor had been the first by a split second to look her way, eyes suddenly glazed by fear. At the same time he'd violently pushed Soren away, shouting something unheard. He paid no attention to his architect's pained expression, instead aiming a snarl and a pair of blazing eyes at Jesse. 

Any compassion was gone. Now it was only tooth, claw, and roaring anger. 

"Out! Get OUT!"

Jesse didn't need to hear it twice, as she had begun to run in fear regardless. Nearly tripping, she paused at the end of the hall, looking back at a gateway of now unkept secrets. Ivor was at the doorway, knuckles white from hanging onto the doorframe, eyes still blazing. 

"Thanks for Knocking!"


	2. Cocoon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jesse finds herself overcome with worry after months of waiting for their alchemist to emerge. Naturally, this requires some comfort. 
> 
> (A personal interpretation of a hybrids au. Is it a bit corny and wordy? Yes. Do I regret writing any of it? Absolutely not.)

The halls had been quiet for too long now. In an echoing silence, the stone seemed to weep, unheard as it's cries were swallowed by the breeze and caught in greedy cobwebs. 

Although the weeping was loud and unheard, the weeping hadn't been there forever, nor was it always sensed. In those same halls, there was also mixed bouts of laughter, companied by heated conversation laced with both tension and lightheartedness. These words were spat out consciously against the ever-stinging silence as a boat in icy waters would often force itself against the north wind. It was a battle against a natural force, a natural emotion. Noiseless yet deafening, some words spoken in attempt to break this force were sucked up as the silent weeping was, some words hanging displayed in a silken embrace. 

It had only been like this since their alchemist had turned. 

There was no denying that Ivor had added something to the day-to-day life in the temple from the moment Jesse had brought him in. By some wonder, he fit in a perfect note to the broken yet beautiful song of their family. Petra would have reffered to him as the treble clef, fixed from displacement and there from the beginning. In short, he belonged. And like the analogy of a song, his voice fit in too. Sometimes sharp and loud, proclaiming- other times it was a soft, warm voice of consolance. No matter the tone, it had always belonged. With his changing, a voice was torn from it's place, moonlight covered by looming clouds in a night sky that was supposed to be bright. 

There was very little known about moth hybrids compared to the data on most other species. Most of the moth population was reclusive, taking to living in large family groups in shadowed lives of dense jungles and caves filled with foliage. Moths knew of only eachother or themselves, guided by their own lights and the white of the moon. 

When a moth appeared in the reaches of man and other hybrid, it was a rare sight. Visits to other places were quick and discreet, journeys made only under moonlight, and the journeys themselves rare as moths were unlikely to bond with anyone else that wasn't of their kind. 

Ivor was a different story. A much, much different story that Jesse was glad she hadn't happened to be the villain of. Not for long, anyhow. 

Jesse didn't know where he had come from, how he ended up with the old order- and she doubted she'd get to know any time soon. But there were some things that she did know. With the old order, Ivor had passed as a spider. Six arms, dark hair, and a generally frightening appearance made few people question the claim, although there was always something off. In the end, it was Jesse's own curiosity that had blown his cover to the new order, to herself and Petra in their battle at Soren's armory. A spider wasn't a spider without their fangs. The old order had known the secret too, but they'd kept it safe along with the dragon controversy. 

He was as much caterpillar hybrid as he was moth hybrid, now a moth hybrid by destiny. They'd called him a moth as it made him feel better about at least one of the few burdens life had thrown at him; at his age, even if the knowledge of his species was scarce, they knew that Ivor was a bit more than a late bloomer. To be called a caterpillar felt shameful, as it was almost a title of clumsiness, vonurability, and immaturity. 

As soon as Jesse had settled him into the temple, signs of something he'd been waiting for began to appear like buds on early spring trees, Excessive hunger being one. They didn't exactly know what to do, as they knew /what/ was going to happen, but not how. 

They expected a change. What they hadn't expected was a fully-fledged cocoon. 

He'd erected himself in the living room, nestled upright between the floor and the wall. Ellegaard had helped him make it. 

 

To Jesse, that dark woven mass was a void, far worse than the ashen and vacant fireplace, the corpses of logs burned and buried in the dust. Her claws pricked at one another, an action made in distaste as she gave a cold stare. Her ears drooped, tail dragging as she wandered closer to the dark catalyst of her mourning. 

Jesse hated that cocoon. She hated it. Not him, but it. the cocoon wasn't really him. It was a thing, a thing that had stolen him, swallowed him up In an inevitable hunger and greed. Who was to say that it wasn't a silken prison, causing their Ivor unending pain from the moment he'd been wrapped up inside of it? Who knew? Who was to deny it? The cocoon had only taken from them. It had only caused Ivor pain, and had stolen him from the order. Their medic. A guardian. Family. The cocoon had the audacity to swallow him whole and only leave behind this dreadful void, and Jesse didn't think she could hate helplessness any more. 

As the tears welled in her eyes, Jesse felt a gentle hand on her shoulder. She flinched, but didn't move, her claws digging into her own palms 

"Jesse…" 

Lukas. She didn't need to look to know. Scent and emotion did enough. Her ears folded back, a faint cry attempting to wriggle out of her throat. "I hate it." Was all she'd managed to growl out in response, this response made through knashed daggers. 

"I know." Lukas's tail rested against her own, his body nestling closer to hers. Jesse tried to ignore the lump in her throat, another attempt made in vain.

"I miss him." Jesse's voice was no more than a whisper. Lukas lowered his arm to her side as tenderly as he'd first placed his hand around her shoulder, like the weight of a feather. With the weight already in her heart, she couldn't tell If it made her feel worse or not. 

"He was in pain, Jesse. This is for the better." 

Worse. 

"Don't say it like he's dead!" Jesse hissed, claws digging even further into clammy palms. They would have been stained with blood if she hadn't held back only slighty. With the thought of blood and another's death, her grip softened, eyes widening and head raising slightly. "Do you… think he could be dead? He's been in there so long, what if something went wrong? What if he-"

"Jesse, he's not-" Lukas's softer tone was cut off as his grip was broken by the push or a rough hand, claws pricking his jacket. Jesse frisky turned, her glare now aimed at him, what would have been a fiery glare doused in glossy eyes. 

"He could have died! He could have died and we wouldn't know! He wouldn't know! It wasn't like he looked alive by the time he made the thing, and the state he's in inside of it, he could have, he could have- " Jesse's breath hitched, air and saliva forcing it's way past the lump in her throat as she swallowed and attempted to breathe. 

Lukas took a risk, hand snaking back up to Jesse's shoulders and holding them firmly. This time was a safe attempt, Jesse pausing before immediately curling up to him and nuzzling into his chest. Her body shaking, she sobbed into his shirt. It was something she'd needed, he could tell. His hand reached to stroke at ruffled black hair. His other arm wrapped around her side, loosely as to avoid another pitiful attack. 

"I know why you'd think that. But remember- Ivor is hardy and stubborn. If he's going out, he's not going out quietly. Plus, his body is built for these changes. He's probably just taking his time, alright?" 

There was truth behind his words beyond reassurances. Lukas knew Ivor at this point. He was loud, testy, more than expressive when he wanted to be- if he wanted to know he was there, they would know. The prospect of Ivor suffering quietly, at least physically, was as plausible as the nether freezing over, this applying even in the days leading up to the cocoon. 

"Is it? He- he was in so much pain, something had to be wrong…" 

Food for thought, but Lukas wasn't going to agree. It had been painful for everyone to see what was happening to their alchemist, slow suffering for unending days on end with almost no solution. He'd remembered the last days as if they'd been yesterday. Ivor hadn't been unable to walk on his own, the new symptom of weakness rendering him helpless. New weight did little to help that. And when he did manage to walk, he had always used a walker or had someone's shoulder to lean on.

Something that Lukas remembered that stuck out to him the most was the day that Ivor had been rendered immobile, at least without someone's health. Leading up to that, he'd been sticking close as he could to the walls when he walked. His steps were that of a mouse, small and rushed, a simple journey from the dining room to the hall waring him out. Ivor had then proclaimed stairs as his worst enemy- as well they were -once he couldn't get up them without help.

The night had been a fairly normal one for everyone in the temple, the last of autumn's leaves whispering in withered trees as everyone settled from a day of last-minute adventuring (something that Ivor had been unable to participate in as well.). When Ivor had been called down for dinner, he walked alongside Lukas down the hall. Lukas watched him. The ocelot noted the movements of Ivor were more like a sick dog's trudging than walking; Slow, agonized trudging. 

"Need help?" Lukas had asked him. There was a lack of concern in his voice, as Ivor always got where he needed to go even when troubled. This time was different. Ivor had looked up at Lukas with a gaze he'd never forget; It was filled with a pain and fear that he'd never before seen on the alchemist. His eyes of night, always filled with flecks of diamond, had been clouded over. The rest of his face was as grim as a dead tulip. Lukas had no idea how long the stare had lasted, Ivor collapsing not a moment later and without a word or whimper. With Lukas's calls, the others rushed to their aid, and Gabriel had scooped up their alchemist in his arms to carry him to the infirmary. Lukas received the look again, eyes now drooped, as Ivor was carried away. The alchemist slept heavily that night.

From that morning on, his legs refused to carry him, His expression pained each time he was to move. Most breaths coming in wheezes, he was beyond complaining. That was because it wasn't worth wasting his breath. Ivor instead protested in the form of whines and whimpers, only speaking when necessary. Lukas definitively remembered his begging for Ellegaard, and his rushed whimpers telling Soren and Ellegaard that "it was time.". It took them a moment to realize what that meant. 

Jesse had a point. Would so much prolonged pain really go into a natural process? Yet, when Lukas thought about it, no drastic change like this could happen without some sort of tribute of pain. Life didn't let many things, let alone transformations like this, come easy.

Just in time for Jesse to whimper and nuzzle into Lukas once more, he remembered something. Information that may have been realized by his own secret mourning. 

"Back up now, Jesse…" Lukas mumbled, weaving himself out of Jesse's grasp but taking her hand and pulling her nearer to the cocoon. Jesse followed, blinking dazed and wiping the tears from her eyes as she was pulled closer to the object of her ire. 

Lukas pulled his lips into a weak smile, fingers tracing the silken weve of the cocoon before placing his palm and the rest of his fingers onto the surface. 

"Feel him. He's warm, see?" 

Jesse, eyes still tinted in irritated red, followed through with Lukas's order. The action was made carefully, touch as tender as a kitten's paw. "Yeah, he is…" her voice was weak. 

"Dead bodies aren't warm. He's Alive, Jesse. He's okay," Lukas glanced back at her, eyes reflecting of emerald foliage, voice smooth and warm. He nodded slightly as he spoke. "But if something really Is wrong, that's not our fault, and we'll do whatever we can to help him." 

Jesse was looking down, twitching lips about to pull into a painful snarl as a stray tear streamed down her cheek. Lukas toyed with her hair, trying to pull out his own smile that showed up short.   
"You don't have to cry, It's gonna be alright." 

Lukas didn't have time to flinch before she dug her head Into his neck again. "…But If you need to cry, then that's okay too."

There was a very brief laugh from Jesse, followed by a sniffle and somewhat of a whimper. She pulled away, lightly sniffling again. "Th- thank you. Sorry I'm such a crybaby."

"Don't Be," Lukas padded her shoulder. "I think you really need it sometimes. You push it down too much." 

"Yeah…I- I know." Jesse mumbled, leaning her head on the ocelots's shoulder. Lukas gave a small purr. They stood, holding eachother for a few moments in the dark quiet before Lukas cleared his throat. "Wanna go back to my room? It'd be nice to lay down for a while. And I think I might have a few books that can take your mind off of this."

Jesse smiled, loosening her grip. "Sounds nice. It would be better to go somewhere lighter."

Lukas nodded. Although she was calmed now, this wasn't going to be the last cry to come. Not if he knew Jesse. 

The two made way, feet sliding briskly on lush carpet. A chill suddenly rushed up Lukas's spine, sending the hairs of his neck on end. He gasped, ears pulled back and eyes widened. His panic came from the void in a surprise attack, but it only took the time of a breath to identify the catalyst. 

The cocoon had shifted, a faint scratching coming from the inside, as if to say "Don't leave me!"


	3. We met One stormy Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After wandering into the nearby fungi-infested bog with faulty equipment, Ivor is left with temporary amnesia, paralysis, and blindness. It's up to Jesse to take care of him, though he has some... interesting, things to say. 
> 
> (Apprentice AU)

More times than she could remember, Ivor had told Jesse in the most strict manner possible to never go to the Bleeding Bog alone. 

The Bleeding Bog was an offset of the swamp they were used to, the one that guarded their home in the Far Lands. The swamp was fairly large, and to the southwest of it, a mushroom biome sprouted from it. In between lied a unique patch of land that they had named the Bleeding Bog. Here, the mushrooms of their own biomes had twisted into and infected the trees of the swamp, dyeing the leaves crimson and dull brown, the blue swamp flowers becoming a sickly yellow. Sometimes, entire halves of a tree could be consumed by a mushroom counterpart. Gnarled, twisted, and deformed, the underside of the mushrooms would leak a sticky red sap that seeped into the water as well as the wet earth. The soil was colored of dry blood, the water a claret shade with patches of deformed fungi growing at every surface the water touched. 

The place was exactly as dangerous as it looked. Perhaps more so. 

The fumes set out from mushroom trees and water alone were capable of various and terrible effects. The poisoning would first start with nausea, blindness, and hallucinations that soon led to hunger, poison effect, and eventually death. As a result, the bog was not inhabited by any creature. Not that either of them knew of. Even the bleak, zombie-like mooshrooms that inhabited mushroom biomes died within an hour of standing in the bog, and in even less time from drinking the water, which strangely attracted them. The nearby heards were quick to learn of the danger. Even then, a rotting corpse could be seen at the shore. 

One other thing that the bog seemed to attract- despite all of the dangers -were alchemists. Specifically testy, outgoing alchemists that lived near it. As if the water of the bog alone wasn't more than enough to skyrocket the effects of base harming potions, the sap of the mushroom trees could make incredible potions of their own, and could be sold off for extremely high prices on the black market. The material wasn't common given that most adventurers didn't know how to properly extract the sap, and often never returned from their quests. 

Ivor did, though. According to himself, he knew how to do everything right in the Bleeding Bog. Jesse had trouble believing him now seeing as to how he was sick in his bed and delusional. 

Jesse didn't know what he was thinking at the time. He'd told her that no one should ever go there alone, as they needed to be able to safely check eachother's equipment, watch for their own mistakes, and get help if one of them had gotten stuck in the bog, all of which was all too possible on the dangerous terrain. Jesse didn't know why he'd gone alone, and she doubted she would any time soon. This time it seemed to be nothing too severe. His breathing gear had been damaged, and by the time he'd noticed, effects were already being suffered. Jesse found him at the edge of the swamp lying unconscious on the ground. He'd dragged himself the whole way. 

At least he wasn't dead, Jesse thought, as her fingers squeezed at a warm and soaking rag. Excess water drained down into the cauldron, droplets jumping back up and making light dripping noises as they hit the water again. Jesse hoped she'd wrung it out just enough, placing the cloth gently on Ivor's forehead. There was little response, Ivor only glancing up at her. The fearfulness in his eyes spoke for him. 

"Don't look at me like that. I'm already trying to help." Jesse sighed, shifting back away to the nearby cauldron and brewing stand. She'd already started on a what could work as both a healing potion and a cure for the Bleeding Bog's effects. The pink liquid glowed and swirled in its bottle, dark red stripes contrasting that of the brighter glowing pinks. 

Jesse hummed, stirring a potion lacking in glow. As she dropped in an extra pinch of glowstone, the potion hissed in defiance. She quietly dismissed it, placing the cork back in the neck of the bottle. All it needed now was time. 

Jesse's humming became more pronounced as she cleaned up the workstation, nearly becoming downright singing. It was a slow and peaceful song, one that Petra taught her. It brought back soft memories of family nights and feelings of contempt. For a moment, Jesse found herself missing everyone else. It wasn't often when the new order grouped up, everyone busy with their respective mentors. 

"Meager this space, but serves us so well," Jesse sang quietly, tightening a pouch of warm glowstone and placing it in a drawer. "We comrades have stories to tell…" 

From behind her, Ivor's voice rang out. It was quieter, so much more fearful than it should have been. "What… Are you singing?"

"Hm?" Jesse turned to look back at him. The innocence displayed in his eyes, as well as the remaining fear, was surprising. It certainly wasn't what Jesse was used to. "Oh, it's a song that Petra taught me. Is my singing bothering you?" 

Ivor looked down at the floor, ashen eyes glancing to and fro for a few moments before looking back up at Jesse again. "Who's Petra?"

Jesse froze. Amnesia wasn't on the current list of effects for the Bleeding Bog, not that she knew of. Glancing at the potion, she silently tried to regain composure, knowing that the last thing either of them needed was to scare Ivor even more. Jesse tapped a pencil against the glass of a bottle to distract herself. 

"Petra? She's a good friend. I really thought I told you about her by now!" Jesse ended in fake amusement. A desperate attempt to keep Ivor in a good mood and less distacted, If anything.

"O-oh…" Ivor settled his head against the pillow again, turning his gaze to the ceiling. 

Jesse sighed. She'd hoped that his effects weren't too severe, but given what he'd just said, it may have been worse than she'd thought. With her fears, however, came a fierce determination. She'd protect him, just as he'd protected her before. Ivor would get better if it was the last thing Jesse made sure of. 

"Uhm…" Ivor mumbled something. Although his eyes were occupied with the pattern of the quartz ceiling, his fingers twiddled with the blanket, showing nervousness. "Who… Who are you?" 

Jesse's stomach dropped. 

She took a heavy, shaky breath before looking her mentor in the eyes again. They'd made contact, but something was missing. Jesse tried keeping composed, using the sweetest and most motherly voice she could. "Is it the blindness? Can you not see me?"

"Barely. You have long hair, a blue robe… but I don't know you. Sound familiar, but I don't-" The pain and panic in Ivor's voice gradually rose. His voice was shaking, Jesse was quick to tend to him. Even as she was close enough for him to very clearly see her face and look into her eyes, the fear never left him. "Who are you?" 

Jesse forced a soft smile, brushing messy locks out of Ivor's face. "Try not to talk too much, okay? I'm Jesse. I'm a good friend as well." Jesse stood up again and turned back to the brewing stand, heels dragging with her steps. "A really good friend. You just don't remember because you got sick." 

Jesse tried to swallow the lump in her throat. It was hard not to add 'I don't know when you'll get better.'. For the time being, talking to him carefully, as if he were a child, was the best option to keep him calm, happy, and well as possible. She had no idea what potential reactions emotions could cause. It was best not to test those waters. 

"Any other questions?" Jesse asked him. It was better to get everything out of the way now than for him to perk up a few times later. She carefully pulled up another brewing stand and began attaching water bottles to it. Brewing always calmed her down at least a little bit. 

"How did we meet?"

Of all questions Jesse was readying herself for, that was the last. At least Ivor still retained a familiar tendancy to surprise her. Jesse didn't think about how long the following pause had been, but soon enough, she sighed, and began her improvised answer. It was far from an easy question in their circumstances, and it was even harder to keep a happy and charming demeanor.

"Well…" Jesse hummed. "We met one stormy night." 

"We met one stormy night…" Ivor echoed. Jesse would be in denial if she wasn't willing to admit that her mentor was a little bit cute in his confused and concerned state. "There's a story here. Tell me." 

Jesse stiffened again, shifting her weight from one foot to the other. It was going to be a long night. 

"Well, it all started when my friends and I went to the annual Endercon building competition, sun high in the sky and a few dark clouds on the horizon…"


	4. Ghost

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jesse finds herself reminiscing over the grave of an old rival. 
> 
> (Slight au where Aiden dies to his fall from Sky City, based on the tumblr prompt "I have respect for all spirits, except for you")

Jesse's boots, torn and frayed, clunked as she made her way up the steps. 

Two years. It had been two years since he'd died in the fall.

Two years was in interesting time span. To some, it could be seen as an eternity. To others it was enough to fill simply the blink of an eye. Jesse was one of the former. Although, time disagreed with her mind. The stone architecture of the grave was cracked and discolored, damaged as if it had been there for a century or more. Moss and vines grasped the shadowed sides of the andestite, left to devour the grave and, hopefully, the memory of Aiden himself. 

They hated him. Not like that wasn't already obvious.

He was the omega to the life of Sky City- a trump card against both the rising tension of the guard and the underground rebellion, but the card he'd played happened to destroy the playing table. With a history like that, it was no wonder that nobody wanted to clean up his grave. Jesse couldn't blame them. 

If she'd known that the fall would lead to Aiden's death, she wouldn't have thrown him from the city. That was a fact. 

(Although, deep down, his death was what she had wanted.)

The plan was for him to get a simple glimpse at death. The thought, the fear of it, simply for him to believe, for a moment, that he was to perish. It would have been a sufficient beginning to the suffering that was surely to come to him from those who had lost their family, their homes, their city, their lives thanks to his greed and arrogance. Jesse guessed that he would have been tortured in a million ways, left to rot in dungeons, his corpse devoured by a starving zombie or a nest of spiders. That's how he was to die. 

But like most plans of Jesse's, that's not how it went. Jesse always had a plan, but each and every one was so often destroyed in the midst of action, so often molded and formed into realities contrasting that of what Jesse wished, into realities where she stood under an onning, kept dry from the pouring rain that had just started to fall, before the grave of Aiden Wilson. 

He'd died hitting the ground, his corpse nothing more than an unrecognizable smear of bone, flesh, and blood in a crater. Milo had said that the winds blew him west of the lake, and by the time he emerged from the storm clouds to see the lake, his last beacon of hope, it was too late. 

Did it matter, really, how it happened? Dead was dead, after all. 

Still, there was some weak spark of emotion left after all this time. 

Jesse had long since shed all of her tears and harbored all of her guilt. It was only after months of her own self-induced agony that she'd realized her tears could be put to a better cause. What was the point, crying over a hated fool who was bound to die from the start? 

"Fool". Hah. Ivor was rubbing off on her. 

She thought that all that was left for him was and empty void, or, at the least, a dead feeling. A dead, poisonous flower, dried up, only leaving dull and bitter colors. How did she feel, bitter? Empty? It was difficult to determine. 

Rain poured down harder around the onning as a clap of thunder rolled through the air. Although given shelter, the granite coffin did not remain untouched by the elements in the slightest. The architecture was faulty, designed to let water pool in the roof and drip onto the stone, eroding it. 

Jesse realized, looking at the architecture, that the design was built to damage itself. To torture Aiden in his final resting place, a quiet and tedious form of eternal suffering and loneliness. If they hated him so much, why did they build him a grave in the first place? What was left of him to bury? Why would the heresy make anything for their harbinger of destruction, the one who'd started the fire that burned everything they'd known? 

Jesse wasn't sure of the answers. When she thought about it, she found that she didn't want to know.

Before the fall, sky city's custom was to burn their dead. The smoke would bring fourth the tears from their eyes, and the dead's ashes would be released into the wind, becoming part of the air and the sky itself. The flame produced from their burning was meant to be a symbol of a star, as the people of Sky City believed that the starts were the souls of those who once were. A star, flickering unto death. One could say that maybe, the burning of the city was Aiden's star. His supernova, to be more exact. A great red flame dispersing from destruction, into stardust, then into nothing.

The customs were split since then. Some were buried, others were burned. Of those who were buried, their white quartz Graves were kept neat and pristine for the souls to rest peacefully. Then there was Aiden; grounded. Dirtied. Forgotten. It was no wonder.

Jesse traced her fingers over the stone. It was rough, either from erosion or from having little effort put into its creation. 

"Looks like they have respect for all spirits…" Jesse whispered. "Except for you."

Without another word, Jesse turned and made her way back down the steps.


	5. Ugly Sweaters

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ported from the "Story Mode Christmas" Collection (With a grand total of two entries)

The month of December may have been the worst one yet.

The following days and weeks since his “adoption” by Jesse had been awkward enough. There was no correct way to treat the man who’d almost single-handedly ended the word, not when that same shadowy alchemist happened to be your house guest. Ivor knew that, they all knew it, though the topic of his status and past occupations was one mostly left untouched apart from small, petty jokes and such.

They didn’t talk about it. Who of them really wanted to, anyway?

The world was recovering, and the past was to be left behind them for as long as they could force it to the back of their minds. Jesse’d made that abundantly clear, at least the first part.With the change of summer to fall, then to winter, Jesse claimed it was a time to let their former woes die to the cold and prepare for their new beginnings come springtime. It also happened to be a time of numerous holidays, one just about scrunched into every month as soon as the leaves had withered and fallen from the treetops.

So much celebration after such a disaster that was the witherstorm felt… futile, almost. But Jesse was Jesse, and she seemed unable to get enough of the holiday cheer that had come with the cold, and her bubbly attitude on the matter had eventually rubbed off on the rest of her friends. All of them were young, so full of life- even without Jesse’s influence, to think they’d pass up on holiday cheer of any kind was truly an anomaly.

He’d never particularly been a fan, even in his golden years. What had bothered him then was endless lights, large gatherings, forced interaction and off key singing.  
Something else had begun to bother him, though.

The vast bright colors and festivities hadn’t bothered him so much now, as what did was the underlying cause of giving.

Each and every holiday was about giving. Giving candy to children, giving thanks for what you had been blessed with in life, giving gifts to those you loved and loving them more than ever before.

The kids, Jesse’s new order- they each had something to give. Something to spare. People who loved them without end and affection to give back to them.

But Ivor?

He had given them nothing but a world half destroyed and scars that would last them their lifetimes. There was nothing he deserved but the righteous judgement of whatever being laid beyond death.

That was why, after everything, after all of the puzzles and complex formulas he’d crafted by his own hand, he’d never seen reason as to why Jesse gave to him, or why she continued to do so. She treated all those around her as family, it seemed, including him.

He always accepted these gifts, of course. How could he turn her away? He couldn’t. Not with her sweet smile, nor her hazel puppydog eyes.

Considering it, there may have been no reasoning for her kindness apart from her nature. She gave gifts, she gave love, simply because it was what Jesse did.  
The storm crisis had changed all of them, and he was no different. His words had become few, and his thoughts brewed and shifted like the potions of his new lab. Jesse’s influence, however, had changed him in other ways.

By now, she’d given him more than he deserved in a lifetime, especially since the storm. To fit the theme of giving, she’d been the cause of the more… physical, differences. Cleaning himself had been one thing, the other attributes of his body were another.

She hated it, seeing him so skinny. It was unnerving to see anyone so sickly like that. As Jesse did, she’d sought out to fix it. Extra meals and snacks through the day were eventually something that blurred in with the rest of life. He stopped noticing.

That was, until, his robes had become uncomfortably snug. That was the start of December.

(These robes were, in fact, some of his only ones. New clothes were something they hadn’t considered for him yet, not with how busy the autumn season had managed to be.)

He was in the living room when Jesse had come to him. If not his room, the old living room recliners were a comfortable sanctuary, or at least a place to make himself comfortable in the presence of the others.

Petra and Axel were beginning to set up a particularly large Christmas tree, bickering back and forth as they came closer to both succeeding and failing at their task. Ivor watched while he sat, sipping away at a hot drink, pretending to be reading. Sometimes, the predicaments of others was more entertaining than the story at hand. His expression has remained stagnant, only twisting in curiosity when Jesse had entered the room, her eyes lighting up like the bulbs that would soon be wrapped around the branches of their living room’s new centerpiece, when she she saw him.

He hated and loved that look all the same. So excited, so caring. It was a diamond in the rough compared to each and every other look he’d received in recent times.  
A woolly bundle rested folded in her arms, patterns of zigzagging red and white being visible. He sat up straight as she approached.

It became abundantly apparent, This was for him.

And, as Jesse seemingly always did, she knew that he knew. The bundle, a folded sweater, was wordlessly placed in his lap.  
He attempted to sound curious and welcoming, though to his dismay, the words came out as more of an accusation than anything. “Now what’s this you’ve brought me?”

Jesse Didn’t seem to mind this, however. Though her reasoning was made with a fair amount of tact.

“So, I… I overheard you talking to Gabriel a couple of days ago, about your robes and whatnot,”

Oh, wonderful.

“And I thought I’d get you something to wear comfortably for a day or two? I was gonna take you shopping, but Petra wants to look over the budget before we do. Can this hold you over for now, you think?”

A particularly loud inside voice was, perhaps, both a curse and a gift. Where there were woes, Jesse was there to try and fix them, because of course she was.  
It took what was perhaps too much effort not to reply with This is your fault!

He picked up the sweater carefully, unfolding it to find carefully arranged zigzag patterns stretched over the stomach and chest. It was tacky, if he was to admit, and beyond fitting for the given season.

Still, a smile perked the corners of his lips. “Did you make this?”

“Oh, no, I just found it in one of the storage boxes upstairs. I’ve gone through most of it now, I’m not sure if anything else would have fit you well.”

He gave her a sharp look, in which she immediately stammered to undo any potential damage “I- I mean, not that you’re- they’re just-”

“Bah, humbug. I know what I am.” He pulled himself up, setting the blanket aside and folding the gifted sweater over his own arm as Jesse had. “This should do fine. Thank you, Jesse.”

As it always had, Jesse’s smile at his acceptance radiated between them.

\---

He found that, while it had appeared to be a standard cheaply made Christmas sweater, it was actually quite comfortable. He had begun to grow used to the pull had his joints that the usual robes provided, and what he wore now allowed him to fully stretch and relax without the uncomfortable tug.

Jesse rested at his side in the chair now. A mug of hot cocoa and the warmth of the fireplace, as well as Ivor’s company, had lulled her to sleep. Snuggling with Jesse was an honor that many of them received, but it was a much rarer occasion for Ivor’s end of things.

After all, how easy was it to approach someone like him with these intentions?

Easier than most to Jesse, it seemed.


	6. Admins

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ported from the "Story Mode Christmas" Collection (With a grand total of two entries). 
> 
> This one is based on an idea that I've had since admins were revealed to be a thing.

Harper waits at the window with her arms crossed over her chest, one shoulder slouching. Her fingers are tight around herself, attempting to keep together herself and the secrets that had been broken apart and revealed.

But she knew, they both knew, there was no going back now.

“Why didn’t you tell me?!” Ivor’s voice is cold, the sting lingering like the frost of December that sought to kill what remained of Beacontown’s gardens.

After everything he’d been through, everything their children had been through, what was she supposed to tell him? What was she supposed to tell any of them, for that matter?

She wasn’t, simply. The new order finding out about this was never her intention.

But life has a funny way of surprising them, dusting off long-buried secrets that were never supposed to be rediscovered. Perhaps Ivor was right, in the fact that there was nothing that could last forever whether any of them wanted it to or not.

Accepting that was the easy part. Dealing with the damage that had been dealt was a different challenge.

Harper takes a short breath, then another, before speaking.“What was I supposed to say?”

“Anything!” His shout makes her flinch, but she can’t blame him. “What part of you ever- Why-”

Ivor halts in his own statement, looking down, balling his fists so hard that his knuckles go white. It highlights the little details of them, each and every dotted and scratched scar visible over taut skin. As he looks up again, Harper sees that his eyes had become glossy.

One word, drawled in heartache, is whispered.

“Why?”

It’s a question she’s wondering for herself.

But there’s no final answer to it, as much as both of them would liked to have known. It was simply because it was. Because it had to be.

Most admins were benevolent in their rule, not to mention omnipotent and respected by all those who rested their gaze on them. Some others ruled from the shadows. Changing, watching, and manipulating out of the sight of mere mortals, rarely coming into contact with them. Those were most often the Admins that disappeared altogether or reappeared to wreck havoc on a world they’d grown bored with to start anew.   
However, an admin couldn’t be either of those things if they had their powers stripped from them and were banished from their world by their own brethren. It was especially more difficult if they’d taken roost in another world, built a world-destroying machine in it, and were banished all over again.

Getting her rightful abilities back had not been difficult, though. Otto was still on her side, after all those years. Ivor had only come to her afterward, her appearance concealed for the sake of what now felt most comfortable and familiar to her, not to mention Ivor as well.

Ivor. Her sweet Ivor.

Now that she’d thought about it, she’d never heard of an admin falling in love with a mortal.

That didn’t mean there was anything saying it was forbidden. It was simply made some things a lot more complicated as it was a long kept secret.

Admins were generally stable, but there was an interesting way that moments of meditation and sheer bliss had a way of distorting and altering appearances that they’d long held to themselves.

Their kiss had been a sweet one, every other ounce of the world melting away in favor of their moment. What had also melted away was her composure, revealing the dark grey with cracks of white and blue that was her true skin, her eyes that flashed with light blue and gold, that Ivor’d stared into for a split second before the panic set in. Her true appearance had disappeared as soon as it’d become visible. That didn’t mean her love couldn’t see it or comprehend it.

“I’m sorry, Ivor. For everything.”

She prepares herself for whatever is to come next. The yelling, the break-up, the possible attack. He couldn't physically hurt her, no, but feelings and emotions were the same for admins and mortals alike.

To the new order, admins were savage. Untrustworthy and ruthless with no common goal and no allies except for themselves. It wasn’t entirely untrue, what they’d gathered from what they’d seen. Romeo was never the first of his kind.

After several moments, drawled on by the bubbling of potions and the soft, muffled click of redstone, the yelling never came. There’s a soft dragging over heated carpet as ivor approaches, stopping by her side to look out the window with her.

Glancing at him, his expression is akin to her’s. Like stone in the evening light.

She feels his hand creep up her side, eventually tugging at her arm. She lets it drop, her fingers curling into his.

“I believe I saw your work. Petra shouldn’t have survived the battle with the strays, you know that?”

Harper knew it. Most days, she’d told herself that her ceaseless powers to manipulate would change her. She wouldn’t use them.

That was a lot harder to stick to when the daughter of your love was an inch away from death to a stray’s arrow, destined to pierce her throat. A swipe of her fingers, a flash, and the arrow had disappeared. Petra had been oblivious to it. Ivor, apparently, had not.

His grip on her hand tightens. His hand is squeezed back. A gesture of agreement.

Gradually, Her skin begins to glow, only dimming again when the cracked grey and glowing eyes have returned to her. The way Ivor looks at her now, she realizes, is no different than the day they met.

“You’re still Harper. Nothing will change that.”

Ivor’s tender words shouldn't make her as teary eyed as they do. She doesn’t attempt to stop the bright tears that streak down her face.

He continues, “Do you know how beautiful you are? None of that has really changed, has it?”

Nothing but a height difference. She falls onto him in a hug, sobs racking both his body and her own.


	7. Tatzelworm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A rather strange one, inspired by my love of the mythical creature/cryptid known as the Tatzelworm. 
> 
> (Non-au)

In the very history of alchemy and experimentation, all could agree that anything to do with fusion was risky business. The activity was promptly banned In most places, resulting in horrid monsters resembling sick and rotting clusters of various body parts to dissappear from the narrative. Nobody was particularly against that.

In short, fusion of beings was high on the “Don’t do that” list, standing alongside the severity of necromancy in the alchemy community.

Ivor wondered to himself, as he gazed under the microscope at his most recent experiment, if extreme species hybridization counted as fusion.

Open notes, quills, and various test tubes were gathered on the desk, with the microscope serving as the table’s centerpiece. A few candles flickered on the desk, serving no spiritual use, only used for their light. The flames danced on their whicks, atop dripping towers overseeing books and notes of vital information. Also embraced in the candle’s light was the object of the microscope’s focus- a tender egg, rose pink and white, tiny patterns and veins swirling within the splotched white.

It looked sloppy for what it was. Like a runt. Although, it was a pristine specimen compared to most other man-made life forms.

“You’re getting bigger.” Ivor whispered, as if talking to a child. The corners of his mouth perked up in a soft smile.

She was slow, but making developmental progress regardless. Her tail curled in a tight corkscrew now, her eyes seemingly big as saucers and dark as onyx while they had been white before. Ivor had worried she was going to be blind if she made it into the world at all, but it looked like the odds were leaning into her favor. In the blurry image, her head twitched upward, lurching her entire body as if startled. Ivor chucked softly.

“Aww, I’m sorry for waking you,” his voice had become deeper as he cooed. “I’ll let you rest again now. No more lights in your pretty eyes… you’ve done very good today.” He pulled back from the microscope, pinching out the nearest candle as glass viewers retracted on the machine.

This was the farthest he’d ever gotten with a variant of the splice’s kind. For some reason, somehow, Mother Nature had decided to disregard her own laws, or had simply allowed a creature like this a chance at a life to see what would unfold. Perhaps it was Notch himself who had claimed curiosity, holding a hand over Nature’s chest before she stopped the eldritch abomination from forming any further.

Or, maybe, neither of them had noticed, and it was only a matter of time before a tiny heart beat for the last time, unknowing of love, a home, or another heartbeat alongside it’s own.

Ivor hoped that this time, the Tatzelwurm would be given a chance. He slowly and silently returned her egg to the incubation chamber.

___

“Are you okay?” Petra looked down at Lukas, who had since perched on the floor near Ivor’s room. His foot tapped, awkwardly so given his position, and the look on his face told Petra he was troubled by something. She wasn’t entirely wrong.

Lukas’s head, torn from it’s own thoughts, snapped up to look at her. “Oh, me?” He brushed a hand through his hair, looking away at nothing for a brief moment. “Fine, I’m fine! Just excited.”

Petra sat down next to him. “Well, that’s good,” she chuckled. “You had me worried. You’re the last person I’d expect to see sitting alone in a dim hallway, looking like you’re about to piss yourself.”

“Shut up.” Lukas gave her a light shove, laughing as he did. “I’m just waiting for Ivor to call me in. He finally finished that experiment he’s been working on, and wants me to be the first to see. Said it was right up my alley.”

“Well, yeah. If he’s reffered to it as the ‘Cat Project’ for this long, I think he’s gonna pick the guy with a cat on his jacket to help.” Petra scoffed, but her tone remained playful. “Know any details?”

Ivor, in the recent weeks, had been speaking of this 'Cat Project’ as if it were the second coming of Notch. His excitement had been comparable to that of which he had on the first trip to the Old Builders’ temple, rekindling just about once every two days. Although showing such extreme apprehension for it, he would only speak of details with Harper, leaving the rest of them guessing with only the clue of 'Cat Project’ and that they were going to love it. There were plenty of ideas going around. At this point, however, a few of them just wanted him to shut up about it.

Lukas shrugged. “He said there was a kitten involved. That’s all I know, but he’s got me pumped. I don’t think I’ve played with any kittens for… well, too long.”

“Good for you! But you realize he could totally just be dragging you in so you can dissect a cat or something, right?”

Ivor wouldn’t do that to him, would he?

Before Lukas could digress, the door at his other side creaked open. Ivor poked his head through, onyx locks framing his face, wearing a grin that warranted nothing but pure joy. “Ready to see it?”

“Are you kidding? I’ve been ready since you said 'cat’!” Lukas leaped up with a vigor unlike his calm composure with Petra, trying to rush through the door without a second though of his companion before Ivor stopped him.

“Quiet now. You don’t want to scare her, so come in slowly and quietly.”

As the door closed behind Lukas, he swore he caught a smug grin and a wave from Petra. It was quickly forgotten as he was lead to the center of the dim laboratory. Rested on the floor beside Harper was an old woven basket, Harper herself looking in with an amused expression.

Given the already displayed context, Lukas was relieved to find that he wouldn’t have to be cutting open any deceased felines.

“You’re going to love this, I swear to you, Lukas!” Ivor cooed as he pushed Lukas a bit closer.

“I know, this really looks good alre-” Lukas’s words cut off in a heart-stopping gasp. He came to his knees ungracefully, the loud and painful thump from his knees unnoticed, Harper’s quiet scolding over the startling noise ignored.

In the basket, poking it’s head out from soft white sheets, was the tiniest kitten that Lukas had ever seen. Its ears, almost too big for its head, were aimed up curiously at the blonde along with ocean blue eyes. Its black head stuck out like a sunspot in the white sheets it rested on, the rest of its body hidden underneath covers.

The tiny squeak it produced only worsened Lukas’s condition. He found himself holding his hands over his gaping mouth.

“She hatched just a few of weeks ago! Adorable, isn’t she? I’ve been careful not to expose her to many new people yet, as I’m not sure how quick moving, fear, and a fight or flight reaction would affect her development, but I’ve decided to start one at a time with you, given that you seem to know how to deal with cats.” Ivor grinned, lightly scratching the top of the kitten’s head. The creature squeaked as her makeshift father pulled away.

Much of what Ivor had said was lost to Lukas in that squeak. “Keep petting her! Er, and… how did you even get her?”

“I made her, Lukas!” Ivor said, a familiar adventurous passion in his voice. “She’s purely tank-born, and I think her very existence is a blessing and a miracle.”

“I do, too.” Lukas’s voice was shaky. “Can I pet her?”

“Of course! I’m not bringing you in here just to gawk. Make sure to be gentle, though.”

Lukas reached out his hand, touching the fur of the kitten’s head with with extreme care. “Does she have a name?”

“Tzipora.” Harper replied this time, despite being quiet the entire visit.

“Tzipora…” Lukas echoed warmly. His heart jumped as Tzipora pushed her head into Lukas’s touch, purring. Of all previous exchanges in the midst of Ivor, this was the most comforting Lukas had ever experienced, more comfortable than he’d ever expect to feel around someone who had once almost ended the world.

“You know, you could try to tempt her out. Offer her a scratch from the other side of the basket- but be patient with her -that tail of her’s gives her trouble.”

Something about the way Ivor was grinning had changed, but Lukas chose to ignore it. It couldn’t mean anything, not now. It was likely just pride, yeah. He followed the alchemist’s directions, pulling his hand to the other side of the basket and making a scratching motion in the air. Tzipora gazed longingly at his curling fingers, knowing her head would fit perfectly in them. With skinny little legs and stretched paws, she lifted herself up, shaking.

Harboring a determination in her ocean eyes, the runt did not fall yet. With long and clumsy steps, she pulled herself out a small amount from the blanket before plopping onto the cushion once more like a rag doll. A tiny mewl escaped her maw, begging for the offered attention.

“Come on, Tzipora! You can do it!” Lukas gave his best words of encouragement, only receiving another cry in return. As the kitten struggled to her feet, Ivor’s fingers curling under her chest to help lift her, Lukas noticed something.

Her back, fuzzy like the down feathers of a duckling, looked too long, stretched out and deformed where her hind legs should have started. His offered petting slowed, and his brows furrowed. Perhaps she was just… created from a more lean and limber limber breed of cat?

Lukas, continuing to gawk, found that he was wrong. Very, very wrong.

As she crawled from the blankets, Ivor praising her and Harper cheering happy encouragements, Tzipora’s body didn’t seem to end. Her down fur morphed into obsidian scales as black as the night, a snake’s tail that revealed itself over the white sheets like a pen’s ink over paper. Where fur transitioned to scales, tufts of fur stuck out like grass between rocks. Lukas’s stomach dropped just as hard as his jaw. As his body froze, he didn’t notice the fur and whiskers rubbing up against his still fingers. All he could see was the black scales.

“Lukas, aren’t you going to pet her?” There was a smugness in Ivor’s voice. The grin he wore then made sense.

As his stomach twisted into nausea, more pieces set into place. Hatched. She’d hatched two weeks ago. Cats didn’t hatch. Cats weren’t supposed to be experiments. Cats weren’t supposed to have long snake tails for hindquarters that made it near impossible for them to walk, and yet here they were.

Lukas was a damn fool for believing that there wouldn’t be a catch to this, that Petra was wrong.

“Is something the matter?” Ivor scooped up Tzipora- no, his monster -holding it up close to his chest. “Do you… need a bucket? You look like you’re going to be sick.” Ivor, the slimy son of a bitch, nervously chuckled.

“Ivor. Did you not tell him?” Harper first sounded concerned, but the concern masked anger that was surely underneath. She stood up as Lukas did.

As his stomach twisted into nausea, more pieces set into place. Hatched. She’d hatched two weeks ago. Cats didn’t hatch. Cats weren’t supposed to be experiments. Cats weren’t supposed to have long snake tails for hindquarters that made it near impossible for them to walk, and yet here they were.

Lukas was a damn fool for believing that there wouldn’t be a catch to this, that Petra was wrong.

“Is something the matter?” Ivor scooped up Tzipora- no, his monster -holding it up close to his chest. “Do you… need a bucket? You look like you’re going to be sick.” Ivor, the slimy son of a bitch, nervously chuckled.

“Ivor. Did you not tell him?” Harper first sounded concerned, but the concern masked anger that was surely underneath. She stood up as Lukas did.

“Not tell me what? That you made a fucking monster!?” Lukas’s voice cracked as he backed away. In the moment, the pain in Ivor’s eyes went unnoticed. The creation was only held closer in protection, mewling again. As he backed away, his vision grew hazy, the world beginning to spin.

“Lukas, get away from- Lukas! No!”

He turned to run, not even thinking of where he was going, but his head ran into something sharp and cold before he had time for a second thought. It wasn’t a moment later that the world became as black as Tzipora’s scales.

___

As his eyes opened, the world a white blur, he was met with a smudge ocean blue and black, outcropped in green.

He knew exactly what those colors wer from.

Ivor’s creation was held delicately not far from Lukas’s head, just out of arm’s reach; There was nothing to be felt about it now, only exhaustion. If his head wasn’t already rested on a pillow, it would have fallen back in a quiet defeat. As more of the new setting cleared, revealing to be the infirmary, Ivor’s glare was also noticed.

“Apologise to her. She’s no monster, you know.” He could tell that Ivor was holding back a snarl.

This was going to be a long night, Lukas thought, as Tzipora’s oversized ears perked in his direction.


	8. Storm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ever since the witherstorm crisis, Jessie's found herself trembling at the presence of any and all storms. However, its not hard to find sanctuary. 
> 
> (Chubby Ivor AU)

Jesse couldn’t tell if the thunder had woken her up, or if she’d already been stiff with fear from the moment she had tried to rest.

She’d seen the distant flashes In the sky that night, known that the storm was going to come through- but tried to forget it, ignore it, in vain. With every rumble, every flash, every gust of wind, her body curled up tighter, shivering in terror. Her mind refused to show any images other than that of writhing tentacles and glowing, gnashing teeth which held the bones of the world within their grasp.

Jesse so often tried to fight her nightmares, but in the end, she was defenseless.

She felt her own shivering hands grasping the handle of the door, said handle seeming so much colder that night. Hurrying through the halls of the temple, she stuck close as possible to the walls as to avoid being caught. By what, she wasn’t sure.

Her hand grasped another knob, another attempt in vain as her ears were met with a dull click. Locked. Axel wasn’t taking visitors tonight, nor was Petra. Upon discovering Gabriel’s room to be vacant, she cursed herself. The warrior had left earlier that evening, bound for Redstonia. Jesse wondered if the storm had reached the glowing city yet.

Jesse, now rough and desperate, brought her hand down on another handle. The door opened without issue, and with it, her heart leaped.

Even in the dark room, it wasn’t difficult to see Ivor’s seeping form, vaguely lit by what little light the window allowed to enter. It seemed so much quieter, the alchemist’s room a liminal space to what Jesse had felt only moments before. The tranquility was more than she could ask for.

She wriggled under the covers, already lulled by the soft sheets and cozy temperature. It wasn’t more than a moment before she was nestled closely to the slumbering alchemist, his own temperature and softness not differing much from that of the bed.

Even here, there were things that the world just didn’t want Jesse to forget. Thunder rumbled again, tearing her from comfortable satisfaction. She whined louder than she would have liked to.

There was grumble, then a sigh from Ivor that prompted her to keep quiet. If there was one thing Ivor hated, it was being woken up without good reason.

Yet, to her surprise, his half asleep form shifted, and an arm was slunk around to pull her shaking form closer. This didn’t happen often, but If there was one thing for Jesse to thank now, it was Ivor’s odd sense of knowing. He seemed to always have it, no matter how tired.

“Hmph, Jesse…” He mumbled

“Ivor, there’s a storm. I’m scared.” Jesse didn’t realize how strained her throat felt, or how shaky her voice was, until she had spoken. Her own words were quick to overpower Ivor’s own on both terms of speed and coherency.

It was too dark to tell if his eyes were open, but there was a definite raise in awareness. She could tell with the growing sense of comfort. His hand reached up to stream through her hair. Jesse loosened, trying to let herself melt into his touch, nuzzling into him as a kitten would to its mother. It wasn’t like Ivor wasn’t comparable to an ocelot in his own right; He was soft, huggable, protective of his little one.

“Don’t be scared…” Ivor’s words were slurred, but Jesse could understand him well enough. “I’m here, I’m here…. Sleep now. You’re alright.”

Jesse began to believe him, but another clap of thunder from the outside shattered her calm composure as if it were glass. Now, it might as well have been. The world loved to fuel her doubts, and the noise made her shiver in fear once more.

“But the thunder-”

“I won’t let anything hurt you. Now, focus on the dark and the warmth, and rest.” Ivor’s own grip on her tightened, his voice becoming a whisper.

“Okay. I’ll try.”

Jesse nuzzled Ivor’s chest once more, attempting to follow suit and forget anything else that wasn’t sleeping. In doing so, she forced her eyes shut, and was soon too bleary to tell if thunder had rumbled recently or not, or if that was just Ivor’s raspy breathing. At the least, it was an opportunity to zone in and focus on the little things that weren’t there to hurt her.

In this moment, Jesse found that a heartbeat made for a great metronome to fall asleep to.


	9. Teddy Bear

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> From a Tumblr prompt. 
> 
> (non-au)

Ivor slinked quietly down the hall, thick socks making a mute rustle on carpeted stone as he approached the young hero’s room.

Behind his back, intertwined safely in his fingers, was her gift.

He told himself that he hasn’t been thinking when he got it for her. Yes, simply an instinctive act- Jesse liking soft things was well known, so he’d get her the little stuffed animal. A mindless action.

No, the alchemist was in denial. He knew that he’d known exactly what he was doing at that market stall- he’d been grabbing potion ingredients from one shop when the small mock creature had caught his eye from a shelf in the stall near him. Ruffled and battered, a small teddy bear with half of an ear and one of its onyx button eyes completely absent. With all other objects near it in prime condition, stitching tight and fabric clean, it seemed unlikely for the teddy to be bought. It could be assumed that the bear may have been a pitiful effort to make another extra coin in the already flourishing market stall. Today, it was a coin that the stall’s owner was destined to receive.

Jesse had an odd love for stuffed animals. It was difficult not to tell with the few piled on her shelves. It’s not like the one that looked as beaten as a training dummy would be the diamond of her collection, but…it was the effort that counted, Ivor thought.

He turned the knob of her door without even knocking, and entered to find her settling down for bed, already wearing the typical ‘relaxation’ clothes consisting of a tank top and loose but long pants. They fit her well.

“Oh- Hey!” Jesse sat on the bed, springs creaking as the mattress dipped. “What brings you here, O Ivor the Great and Terrible?” She spoke dolefully, boasting a grin on her face.

Ivor grinned back. Sometimes, her attitude was simply contagious. “Well, your highness-” He imitated Jesse’s speaking. “I have come to bestow a gift of sorts…”

Ivor’s fingers curled tighter around the teddy that he held behind his back, Jesse having not yet seen it.

Jesse dropped her quaint acting and composure almost immediately, distracted by her own excitement and the promise of a gift. She leaned forward with her fingertips sinking into the edge of the bed. The grin oh her face, by some possibility, had grown. “Really? What is it? Almost in the middle of the night, too, I mean what could you have- Ah!”

She nearly squealed as Ivor brought the object of their interests into her view. He held it outward, the little creature’s arms and head hanging limply and it’s dull eye seeming to be lit up by Jesse’s glowing expression.

“You see, I've…Got a teddy bear for you. It’s little and rugged, I know, but It made me think of you. I thought I might-”

Ivor couldn’t finish his sentence. The air was knocked out of him by Jesse’s crushing hug, and the toy already safe with her as she tightened her embrace. Unexpectedly, her voice became quieter as she spoke.

“I…I love it. Thank you, I just- I can’t believe a little thing like this made you think of me. And for you to buy it, too? I…”

Jesse pulled away again, holding the little teddy bear close with two hands, a warm smile across her face. “I love it. It-” she paused, holding it up closer to her face. “He doesn’t have to be perfect. These flaws make him who he is. Thank you” Jesse glanced at her shelves, but soon glanced back down at the floor. “I think I’ll hang on to him for tonight. I’m too tired to find a spot somewhere…”

Ivor smirked, but the expression had an odd warmth that came with it. “He, hmm? So you assign these things to all of you little pets?”

Hiding the red twinge on her face was a difficulty. Even as she glanced down, her embarassment was given away. “It’s a habit, okay?”

“Don’t worry about it. You know, when I was a Librarian’s assistant, I would give nicknames to the books that would get checked out the most.”

“Really? Wait, wait, you were a Librarian’s assistant? When was that?”

Ivor realized, as he had continued, that there were many tales in his story that Jesse wasn’t even aware of. She’d known the order, and where he was now, but she was missing so much- the little things in life, stories shared over the table. The weak smile on his face remained as he rubbed the back of his neck.

“Well, that's…actually a story with a lot to it.” Ivor held out his hand to her, fingers parted slightly. “Would you like to come to my room and hear it? We could have some tea, and If you get tired enough, you’re free to sleep on my bed.”

Ivor didn’t think it had been possible for Jesse’s face to light up more then it had, but the expression presented to him could easily outshine even the glowing of the order’s amulet. “Really!? I mean- yeah, are you sure?”

“Oh, it’s no harm.” Ivor had already taken her hand, making way for the door. “Now, about that story- it all started when I’d come across a half-dead testificate zombie…”

As Ivor’s story reflected from the stone walls and into the minds of those already falling asleep in their beds, the bear that Jesse was gifted dangled in her hand from one paw, one onyx eye gazing behind them.


	10. Twister

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some friends sit out some very bad weather, feat. drunk Ivor 
> 
> (Non-au and of the fics that I still actually love)

“I never liked basements, just putting that out there!”

“I don’t care! Get in!”

Gabriel shoved Magnus down, sending the griefer tumbling from top of the stairs. Thankfully, the stairway only boasted three steps. His fall wasn’t too hard, nothing much compared to what he’d already been through that day.

The new and old orders had finally decided to start using the portal network as a means of adventure, treasure seeking, and trade connections. It was much less dangerous now that they were able to actually navigate them, but it by no means meant that the portals didn’t have any more nasty surprises for them. This surprise happened to be Magnus’s first in his experience of the portal network. It very much made him consider how torturous it had been for Ivor and those kids- and not to go through just one portal, but dozens? They were stubborn and skilled survivors. That was a fact. Meanwhile, Magnus had barely managed to escape the clutches of death only at Gabriel’s hand, the warrior pulling him by the collar out of the path of a large projectile being hurled in the wind.

They’d come to Nell’s world, Nell apparently being a chick that Jesse met on their “joyride” through the portal network. Given her cool composure, they thought that this world would be nothing to worry about. Yet again, they were very, very wrong.

“Natural Disasters” was what Nell had called them. The woman was just as surprised to find out that the order’s world didn’t have them as the order was to find out that hers did. Walls of water called “Tsunamis”, “Earthquakes” when the earth shook and crumbled under one’s very feet, “volcanoes” where lava decided to spew out of the ground and create mountains, leveling and burning anything in its path. These things were /normal/ to her?

One thing was for sure, the girl was tougher than she looked. Magnus didn’t know Nell, but to live in a world like this… There was a definite mutual respect. Magnus didn’t care to know that these events were rare. The fact that they even happened at all was enough.

Maybe he’d visit again, gawk at all the destruction when he wasn’t caught in the middle of it.

“I’ll be back!” Gabriel’s words and gaze cut over the many wide and fearful eyes of those hiding in the shelter. Nell’s family had a big house, and a big basement. Many had fled to her home in the disaster. Magnus was never a fan of dark, musty places, though. Not since hiding in his tower all those years, although, it was better than being outside.

Gabriel ran back out and through the house, door shutting behind him. Magnus guessed that he was going on one last hero run to pick up anyone he could before the worst of the storm hit.

(Funny. Magnus wasn’t sure it could get worse than it already was. He was wrong, and he’d find that out trying to sleep that night.)

He would have protested, but knew there was no stopping Gabriel. At least he’d know when to come back. Gabriel wasn’t as stubborn as him when it came to those things. He’d charge in first, yes, but the man certainly knew when it was time to haul ass in the other direction.

Soaked and exhausted as the rest of those in the basement, Magnus crawled to a drier corner lined with hay. It was dark, difficult to see or for someone to even know what they were doing, but what was important was to just settle and wait it out. He’d done it before, he could do it again.

In the darkness, silhouettes of forms and faces were visible but extremely difficult to make sense of. With the mild glow of a health potion, though, Magnus could vaguely make out that of Ivor’s face amongst those of strangers. He roughly sat next to him, feeling the damp robes of a villager brush against his other side. He mumbled an apology. The only response received was a grunt, normal for a villager.

After that, Magnus stayed quiet. There wasn’t much of anything to be said. It wasn’t like the world cared for what they had to say, anyways. It’s voice, angry and pounding wind and rain, preferred to be heard over all words and cries of fear. But even then, whispers, murmurs, and soft weeping was heard in the shelter if one listened close enough.

“Tornado,” Ivor sighed, Exhaustedly. “Jesse said that Nell called this one a tornado. Or a twister, I dunno which… I heard ‘em call it both.”

Magnus waited before responding. At first, he wasn’t even sure if it was Ivor talking. It sounded like him, but not entirely. Not like the griefer had heard weirder today, though. “…Seems fitting. You see anything like this before?”

“Nah,” Ivor paused to take a drink of the health potion he was holding. That explained a little bit. It was very possible to get drunk off of healing potions. Both he and Ivor had done that plenty of times before. “Mmhm, only thing like this I seen was the witherstorm. Lucky for us, this storm en’t alive.”

Okay, yeah, definitely drunk. Magnus couldn’t blame Ivor, not with current events. He was half tempted to ask for some of the potion, but instead the rogue dug into his pockets in search of a light and some cigarettes. If Ivor got to drink, then Magnus’d get to smoke. It was only fair, right?

He flipped the switch on the light, a gleam illuminating the cigarette as well the area around them. Some people flinched at the glow, and now magnus could see that there was more weariness than fear illuminated in the strangers’ eyes. The looks were not unfamiliar.

“Hey, don’t do that.” A new voice interrupted the quiet, strangely innocent. “There’s people here, it’s already hard to breathe. You can smoke later.”

Magnus lowered the cigarette away from the embers of its omega, frustrated, and almost scowling. Could nothing go smoothly? Then the emotion quickly faded. The stranger was right; it wasn’t the right time, as much as he wanted it to be.

“Gah, you’re right. Sorry kid.”

“It’s fine. I know you’re stressed, we all are, but just try to think about others.” The voice was so calm, so familiar. Magnus knew he heard it somewhere before, but just couldn’t pinpoint it.

“Damn, I know your voice. Who are ya, kid?” Magnus leaned forward, almost over Ivor, looking in the direction of which the voice had come. The flame of his lighter then illuminated the face of who had spoken. He was recognized instantly. It was one of Jesse’s friends- the newest member of the New Order -the one whose name Magnus had neglected to learn. Ah, well, he’d make due with “kid”.

“Hey, it’s you! What are you doin’ over here with the us old grumps?” Magnus felt himself smiling. The blonde returned the favor.

“Ah, I couldn’t find Jesse. And I have to watch Ivor. Lord Notch, why are you getting so drunk? Aren’t you going to have to treat people after this?” Lukas’s expression became more hidden as Magnus pulled away the lighter. It was likely he was wearing a look of concern.

“Mph. To answer yer question, I- Ey! Watch the fire 'round the robe!”

“Ah, sorry.” Magnus decided to put away his lighter. The light wasn’t doing them too much good, they knew who they were talking to. Wasting fuel wasn’t necessary. Besides, maybe he’d need it later.

“As I was sayin'… I’m drinking /because/ I gotta treat people. Ton of strangers I don’t know… take care of them? Bullshit! If I’m going to do it, mi… might as well try to forget before I do. Y'know, they’re probably gonna ask for builders, too…” Ivor shoved his half-drained potion into Lukas’s arms, almost shoving they young architect directly. “I’d start drinkin’ if I were you, Louie.”

Ivor’s voice seemed to become more slurred by the minute.

“Ivor. My name is Lukas. Haven’t you learned this?”

“Not when I'm… Not when I’ve downed three of those things.” Ivor jestured to the potion in Lukas’s hands. “Or… was it two n’ a half?”

Magnus laughed, and he heard a couple of shadows around him giggle as well. Ivor was his own aspect of entertainment when he was drunk, at least. Likely more stress relieving than a smoke. Magnus was thankful for that, to at least have a spark of something laughable in their hiding place away from the destruction outside. It made the “Tornado” easy to forget. Plus, Ivor had done him a favor and given away the kid’s name. It was a win-win.

Lukas, however, sounded less entertained. “You’ve had more than two of these? Okay, if you feel like you’re gonna puke, I’ll get you a bucket, but I’m not patting your back for you.

It was then when Magnus and Ivor both laughed. Clearly, Lukas was unfamiliar with a particular skill of Ivor’s. Magnus spoke before the alchemist could even put together the words in his head. "You don’t know the half of it, kid. Ivor here is the drinking king of the order! A measly two potions won’t be a problem. Hey bud, what was your record?”

Ivor thought for a moment, playing with the ends of his hair, but then perked up with his answer. “Ahh… seventeen, right? Yeah. But that’s just countin’ bottles. I think… thirteen health potions, a bottle of jaeger, a bottle of whiskey, and a couple regeneration. Yea! Mph, I aughtta challenge Axel to a drinkin’ contest. He looks like he can keep stuff down.”

In the faint glow of the potion, Magnus could see that Lukas’s jaw was dropped and his eyes were wide. The griefer laughed again, but Ivor didn’t take notice. “Hah, about time you learned. Moral of the story is: Don’t tell Ivor what he can and can’t do in the drinking department. Don’t challenge him, either, unless you want to puke half the night and wake up on the bathroom floor with the worst hangover of your life. Trust me, I know.”

Magnus remembered that night well. He’d challenged Ivor, already drunk out of his mind, young and foolish. It had been a hell of a way to learn a lesson.

Lukas was speechless, and backed away to lean against the wall. “I’ll take you up on that advice, I think.”

Magnus laughed softly, leaning against the wall as Lukas did. It was moments like these he could appreciate- trapped under something dreadful, but somehow, managing to create something happy and conforting. Managing to start something that brought back fun memories, that made him laugh and smile. They were good moments. A griefer didn’t get a lot of them. Magnus closed his eyes, and sighed into the musty air, appreciating the moment and the returning silence. This time, the quiet wasn’t uncomfortable.

Soon, Gabriel returned, soaked and cold with Jesse and Nell by his side. Ivor had passed out only a few minutes before their arrival, but Magnus nor Lukas thought that waking him would be good. He’d suffer enough from a hangover later.

“Multiple storms In the area,” Gabriel panted, but loud enough for the others to hear. “We won’t be able to get out until morning when it’s passed. We- and everyone else -will have to stay the night here.”

“Don’t worry, basements’ safe!” Nell chimed in. “There’s a pantry in case anyone’s hungry. Just call me up, I’ll show you some epic loafage.”

Magnus heard Lukas and Jesse laugh.

He had no idea what “epic loafage” meant, but he could definitely part with this.


End file.
